


Forever

by SamaraKurtofsky



Category: Glee
Genre: Childhood Friends, Christmas fic, Completely AU, Dave Karofsky Secret Santa, Imaginary Friend, M/M, Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly, based on a movie, mention of cancer and death (Kurt's mom)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28455873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamaraKurtofsky/pseuds/SamaraKurtofsky
Summary: Based on Sundays at Tiffany's.Kurt grew up with his imaginary friend, who helped him getting through his mother's death.As an adult, Kurt seems to have the perfect life - a beautiful apartment, a famous soon-to-be husband that everyone adore. Kurt should be happy, but he isn't. In a moment of need, someone from his past comes back to help him once more.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/David Karofsky
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26
Collections: Secret Santa 2020 - Dave Karofsky Discord





	Forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allthingsconsidered (lastafterthought)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastafterthought/gifts).



> This is a gift for Katie! I'm sorry for being so late, but I hope you'll like it and wish you had a happy Christmas <3\. You are amazing!
> 
> This is Katie's original prompt: Based on Sundays at Tiffany's. While growing up, Dave had an imaginary friend (either Sebastian or Kurt). Eventually they start forgetting their imaginary friend, but suddenly they meet someone who is or looks exactly like their old imaginary friend. 
> 
> I inverted the roles because it seems more fitting. I hope you still enjoy it :D

**December 2001**

When Kurt lay down beside her, Elizabeth was barely able to open her eyes. It looked like she was about to fall asleep, as if her eyelids were too heavy to stay open. Kurt was glad she was back from the hospital, but she looked frail, almost too delicate to even be touched. When Kurt hugged her, before her father brought her to bed, it seemed to him that she was struggling to even stand up. She was short of breath, her face hollow, her complexion dull.

She looked like the shadow of the woman she had once been.

The air had grown gloomy, as in a tomb. _Tick tick tick_. Kurt could only hear the ticking of the table clock, and for some reason he felt a shiver of fear running through his body.

Kurt reached out and gently caressed Elizabeth's bare head. He missed her dark curls, but she still looked like the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

She smiled faintly, the lines in the corners of her lips suddenly becoming more visible.

Dave was sitting at the foot of the bed, his legs dangling, looking at the floor.

Despite her fatigue, Elizabeth enclosed Kurt's hand in hers and kissed his small fingers, one by one.

She wanted to tell him many things, the secrets of the world. She wanted to stop time and never forget the warmth of that touch.

Instead, she sang a song.

_ Baby mine, don't you cry _

_ Baby mine, dry your eyes _

_ Rest your head close to my heart _

_ Never to part, baby of mine _

Kurt snuggled up against her chest, hiding his face in the folds of her nightgown. He took a deep breath of her perfume, promising himself to remember it forever.

_ Little one when you play _

_ Don't you mind what you say _

_ Let those eyes sparkle and shine _

_ Never a tear, baby of mine _

Elizabeth pushed a lock of hair from her son's forehead and left a warm kiss on his skin. He seemed so small to her - a lovely bundle of innocence and love. Her baby boy.

_ If they knew sweet little you _

_ They'd end up loving you too _

_ All those same people who scold you _

_ What they'd give just for _

_ The right to hold you _

_ From your head to your toes _

_ You're not much, goodness knows _

_ But you're so precious to me _

_ Cute as can be, baby of mine _

"Mommy," Kurt interrupted, staring at her with his big, blue eyes. His lower lip trembled slightly. "Mommy, don't go away."

In his child's heart, Kurt believed that if he wanted it enough, she would be cured of that nasty illness his father was afraid to even mention. He imagined grabbing her voice, as if it were tangible, and holding it close to him like a jewel - one of those necklaces she loved to wear, or a bracelet. He tried to find control in that situation that he couldn't change, and he succeeded thanks to his creativity.

She touched his chest, imagining that she could heal his broken heart. "I will always be here with you, my love." She tapped lightly on top of Kurt's yellow Winnie the Pooh pajamas, and he grabbed her finger, squeezing it tightly.

"But I need to see you, Mommy." He'd have a tantrum like when he was little, if only it would help. Knowing she would be mad at him was better than watching her disappear forever.

Two big tears rolled down Kurt's cheeks, and she wiped them gently. “Wherever I am, I will always listen to your voice. Don't cry, my darling. Sing, live, love. Do it for me too."

Kurt made that promise and kissed her cheek as a symbol of his oath.

He would sing, he would live, he would love.

* * *

After returning to his bedroom, Kurt hid under the blanket. He had closed the door and left the light off. Part of him hoped to disappear into the dark. He wouldn't tell anyone though. He knew his mom would be sad about that thought, and so would his dad, who tried so hard to maintain a smile despite everything.

Dave crawled under the duvet next to him. He touched the tip of his nose, but Kurt ignored him, turning away.

“ Why don't we watch something together, before we sleep? Or we can pretend we're pirates and draw a treasure map! Last time we found those old photos in the basement It was so fun!" Dave grabbed Kurt's shoulders, yanking him lightly. 

Kurt didn't put any resistance, but also he didn't answer.

He could feel his heart crumble, leaving him at the mercy of pain and fear.

With a sigh, Dave lay down, squeezing Kurt's back. It felt like they were alone in the world, enclosed by the warmth of the blanket, hugging each other. Kurt closed his eyes. While lying on that tear-soaked pillow, he dreamed of monsters living under the bed, of scarlet eyes looking at him through the mirror. He saw himself calling for his mommy, only to find her as a pile of bones on the bed. In all those dreams, Dave ran to his rescue, with his pirate hat and his chipped wooden sword. Sometimes the monsters won, but not without a long and grueling battle.

Elizabeth Hummel died that December night, just before Christmas.

Kurt didn't tell anyone, but in his sleep, hugged by Dave, he felt a hand caressing his hair, and the melodious voice of his mom reassuring him. Maybe it was just a dream, an illusion of his child's mind, but when he woke up, hearing his father's desperate but choked sobs, Kurt knew he had to be strong.

He knew that he wouldn't give up.

**

During the funeral, Kurt didn't say a word. He didn't cry. He sat in the corner next to Dave, turning a cookie in his hands until they were white with powdered sugar.

Relatives approached him cautiously, sometimes hugging him, sometimes placing a hand on his shoulder. Kurt just nodded to whatever they said, not really listening to them.

He felt he was on the verge of tears, but his eyes were dry and burned, as if someone had poured sand over them. His throat ached, and his stomach felt hollow. He turned to Dave, who was playing with the buttons on his shirt. Kurt had never asked him why he didn't change his clothes, and why they never got dirty.

"Can we hide, please?" Kurt asked. He looked at Dave with his hopeful, praying blue eyes. His head was spinning. His mother was gone. She would never come back.

Dave took his hand, and together they ran under the table, huddling next to each other. Kurt felt a blast of cold air coming from a half-open window, and Dave hugged him tight. Every part of Kurt's body hurt, but it was a pain that wouldn't go away with just a band-aid and a few days in bed. It was a wound that would never heal, and Kurt wasn't ready for the immensity contained in that truth.

"Do you think she knew all these people?" Kurt asked, still staring at the crowd of people dressed in black - some holding a plate, other gathering in groups and wiping their teary eyes with a handkerchief. Kurt had recognized a few people, but most of them were just strangers who he wanted gone as soon as possible. He missed his dad. He could see Burt's broad shoulders as he tried in vain to comfort Aunt Hanna, who leaned on him, sobbing.

"I think some remembered her too late."

Kurt nodded silently. He imagined being suspended in a sky full of stars and flying, flying higher and higher, until he disappeared into thin air.

* * *

Kurt covered his nose, caught by the unpleasant smell of burnt chicken. When his father opened the oven's door, the kitchen filled with a cloud of black smoke.

“How did this happen? I followed the recipe!" Burt wiped the sweat from his brow and stared at Kurt with a look of defeat. He put his apron on the back of a chair and tried to smile even though it looked as fake as an ugly Halloween mask.

Kurt had heard him cry the night before, and Burt still had puffy eyes. He felt guilty for asking him for chicken with potatoes similar to the kind his mom loved to cook.

It had seemed to him that Elizabeth's presence in the house was slowly changing into a memory that was fading and slipping away, and he wanted something to hold onto, to not lose her for good.

Burt tried to avoid talking about Elizabeth, and Kurt hated that behavior. He wanted to repeat her name over and over, forever. Somehow he was convinced that if they didn't give in to her death, if they fought hard enough, she would appear at the door again - snow-stained coat and flushed cheeks. She would apologize for the delay, and everything would be as it was before. Like waking up after a long, horrible nightmare.

In Kurt's eyes, Burt was guilty of not believing it enough, and Kurt subconsciously punished him by talking very little and smiling even less.

He once loved to sing. With his mom he improvised shows in the living room, whirling together and dusting off classics that Kurt was too young to remember. Sometimes Kurt was able to get Dave to join them.

Mom liked Dave, even though she couldn't see him. Dad was more reluctant and persuaded him to talk to Dr. Harris, who they went to together once in a week.

Kurt didn't mind those sessions. Dr. Harris didn't force him to talk, and she often gave him pen and paper to draw, or let him play with Dave with the big dollhouse she had in her office. She never raised her voice, and she didn't expect anything from him.

Kurt had had enough of expectations - going to school, doing homework, pretending everything was fine. Sometimes he just wanted to cry and scream.

“It's okay, Daddy. Can we eat mac and cheese instead?"

Dave jumped happily. “I love mac and cheese! Can I have some?"

Kurt nodded. He didn't know why Dave loved food, as he had never seen him eat, but it didn't matter much. There were a lot of things Kurt didn't need, but he loved having. He thought that food, for Dave, was more or less the same. "Dave wants some."

Burt shrugged and took out one of the packs of mac and cheese they had bought the last time they had been together at the supermarket. He rolled up his sleeves and put water to boil on the stove. "Dr. Harris says Dave is good for you, so anything that makes you happy deserves a reward."

Kurt gave an imperceptible smile. His dad had often called Dave his imaginary friend, but to Kurt he was just a friend that no one else could see.

"Can we decorate the Christmas tree?" Dave looked very excited, as if he were struggling to stay seated on the chair. Kurt felt the opposite, like his life force was dying, but he nodded anyway.

Burt had forgotten to put up the Christmas tree, too busy taking care of Kurt, the house, and the garage. Kurt had already decorated the windows with glow-in-the-dark stickers. He dusted off a box of wreaths in the basement, carried it and went back for the tree box. He got the wreaths out and hung one on the front door and one over the fireplace. He pulled the tree out and assembled it. It wasn't particularly big, and Kurt had grown a lot in the past few months.

Dave had found Kurt's old toys piled up in a dusty box in the corner of the basement, and Kurt opened it and removed one of his old stuffed animals, a bee, that his mom had given him for his third birthday. He moved it to his room, near the bed, and when he felt too sad, he placed it on the pillow next to his teddy bear, Mr. Snuggles.

Kurt and Dave sat down together at the foot of the small tree and reached into the box of decorations. Dave fished out a stuffed Santa Claus puppet, and lifted his beard. " _ Oh, Oh, Oh! _ I should really cut off this white beard, I'm tired of buying toys for everyone!" He moved Santa's beard up and down, trying to imitate his voice.

Kurt just laughed, but his face went blank when he found a small snowman, decorated with red satin bows and bells. His mom loved it.

Kurt brought it to his face. Closing his eyes, he could still smell her perfume. It was everywhere, and it couldn't be erased.

Dave took his hand. "She would have liked for you to sing."

Kurt shook his head, his cheeks streaked with tears. "I don't want to," he said.

_ Not yet. _

Burt stood at the door - his clothes dirty with the chicken sauce, looking at his heartbroken son.

Dave curled up on Kurt's shoulder, and sang to him.

**December 2003**

Burt moved deftly from one side of the kitchen to the other. In the past year he had learned some of the simpler recipes from Elizabeth's newspaper clippings. While he was cutting the carrots a bit clumsily, he also checked on the grilled meat and turned it with a fork, paying attention to the splashes of hot oil.

Kurt helped set the table - red napkins, holly centerpiece, snowflake-shaped place mats.

On the TV, a children's choir sang "Silent Night," and Kurt turned up the volume, singing softly under his breath.

Dave was sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing the Christmas tree. He seemed thoughtful and had spoken little all evening. Kurt had asked him to play hide and seek, but they had gotten tired after Dave purposely made him win three times.

“Dinner will be ready in about half an hour, Kurt. Why don't you flip through one of your magazines on the sofa?"

Burt ran a hand through Kurt's hair, and he quickly smoothed it out. “Are you sure you don't need help, Daddy? I can finish cutting the onion." Kurt sighed, as he looks into his father's red and puffy eyes, and the carrots and onions cut into messy, asymmetrical shapes. His dad hated cooking, but Kurt didn't mind - he found it relaxing. Burt had been reluctant to let him use knives and stoves, but Kurt was good without even really trying. He had taken it from Elizabeth.

Growing up, Kurt found he also resembled her in physical appearance. When he looked in the mirror, he could see her in his features.

"I promised I'd cook," Burt said. "And that's what I intend to do."

Kurt nodded, chuckling. He lit two candles with the grill lighter and stood there a few seconds staring at the wax melting right in front of his eyes.

Dave hadn't moved an inch. For a second, Kurt thought he could see through his body, like was transparent, but rubbing his eyes he thought it was just a hallucination from the dim lighting.

"You look sad, Dave," Kurt said, moving closer. His gaze was drawn to his mother's perfume bottle, which had been transformed into a decoration for the Christmas tree. Kurt had insisted he wanted something of her there. He smiled and stroked it with his fingers. "You’ve been like this since this morning."

Dave turned to him. In his eyes, Kurt could see his broken heart. It was a grown-up look, which clashed with his chubby child's face.

“I shouldn't be sad, I should be happy, you know? But I can't stop thinking about how much I'll miss you."

Kurt wiped the floor with his hand and sat down next to him. “Why would you miss me? I'm right here. What's wrong, Dave? We’ve always told each other everything."

For some reason, Kurt felt like crying. It was a feeling similar to the time her mom passed away.

"Kurt." Dave closed his mouth again and kept his gaze down.

“Dave, you're scaring me. Please tell me what's wrong."

Kurt was shaking, and for a moment he thought it was all a joke - that Dave would laugh and Kurt would spend the evening forcing him to flip through the new issue of  _ Vogue  _ his dad bought him.

Dave gave a long sigh, and Kurt's blood ran cold. “You're ten years old now, and you don't need me anymore. At school you have friends, and you have your dream - to become famous, to sing, and to reach people's hearts. You don't need me anymore, Kurt. I have to... "

Kurt cut him off by pushing him a little. He was about to cry, and he was out of breath. "What are you talking about? Which friends? Do you mean Mercedes? We can only meet at school and a few hours on weekends! Before the holidays, they wrote those awful words on my desk, Dave. Dad says I shouldn't repeat those words, ever. They ... they emptied my satchel out the window, and the teacher pretended nothing happened. So don't you dare say I don't need you. You are my best friend. I have ... I have nothing else. You, and my dad. " Kurt sobbed, his arms wrapped around Dave. He would never let Dave go. If he held him tight, Dave would stay.

Not like ... not like his mom.

He didn't care what the adults said, or that he was growing up.

Dave wiped Kurt's tears away with his finger, and Kurt looked into his big, kind eyes.

"You are the strongest person in the world, Kurt." He caressed his soft cheek, and Kurt thought his touch felt... lighter, as if it were made of wind. “The most beautiful, strong, and interesting person in the world. Please don't ever change. I love you very, very much. And I will remember you forever."

_ Forever _ .

Dave kissed him on the cheek, near the mouth, and his body became translucent, as if it shone with its own light.

"No. No. No. Please don't leave me too. Please."

Kurt saw his mom again - that last song she sang, the funeral. His own empty heart.

"Never change," Dave repeated again, before disappearing into the air.

Kurt crouched on the floor crying and screaming, hugging someone that no longer existed.

**December 2020**

Behind the TV screen, Blaine crossed his legs and winked at the audience, who laughed at his joke and gave a second round of applause.

Kurt turned the volume down and nodded at Carole's calm, sweet voice from the other end of the phone. He turned on the bedroom lights and weighed two items of clothing he had previously laid out at the foot of the bed - a black shirt with a classic collar with elegant and not-too-flashy gray leaf embroidery, and a dark blazer, with details of gray buckles on the shoulders. "It's all ready," Kurt nodded again, as if Carole could see him. “The cake, the guest list. Blaine wanted me to update the list three times. It seems like he wants to invite all of New York. Oh, and the menu has a selection of low-fat foods. I don't want to worry about dad's health even on my wedding day."

Kurt couldn't wait to see them again. He missed his father's grumpy face, the scent of her aftershave, his blind support. Carole was Burt's soulmate, different from Kurt's mother but with the same good heart and innate femininity. They would be celebrating their 10th anniversary soon, and Kurt couldn't help but envy the simple way they seemed to complement each other. Despite the length of time they had dated, Kurt often found himself thinking that he and Blaine lived in two separate universes, or that they spoke different languages.

Carole interrupted that thought, speaking excitedly in a way that made her seem quite a few years younger. It reminded Kurt of one of Blaine's fans.

Kurt sensed his doubts about marriage, eager to come out, but he held them inside, afraid to give them a voice. If he said those words he would no longer be able to pretend they weren't true.

“I emailed you the flight information,” he said instead, “and I reserved you a room in that hotel you liked so much - the one with the view of the Hudson River."

She thanked him and ran into a long monologue about how lucky Kurt was to have met someone like Blaine. She complimented him on the new show Blaine was going to star in and spent at least ten minutes discussing how funny and charismatic Blaine sounded in an interview he had given the previous week for a well-known magazine. Kurt didn't say much - he only interrupted her once or twice to agree on how awesome Blaine was, and to tell her a short anecdote that he had seen them surrounded by a bevy of young fans during one of their walks in Central Park.

When Kurt ended the call, he felt a sudden flash of anxiety, like he'd been underwater too long and really needed to breathe. He paced in the room, pausing only to look at his reflection on the wardrobe mirror. He felt dirty, ungrateful - Blaine loved him, didn't he? But Kurt still wasn't happy.

He went back into the living room and turned up the volume on the TV again, focusing on Blaine's warm voice - his hand resting on his chin when he thought of an answer to give, the slight hint of a beard that made him look more adult than when Kurt had met him, back in college.

Kurt remembered him a bit clumsy, when he still wore too much gel in his hair and insisted on wearing primary colored pants that were too much and too short. Five years earlier, Blaine had got a secondary role in a theatrical production, and his career had taken off since - commercials, movies for the TV, and finally a starring role in a popular television series. Kurt was proud of him, he shared Blaine's joy for every success, but the flame of passion that had united them in the first years of their relationship had died out like the flame of a candle, and Kurt had often found himself doubting their compatibility. Blaine was distant, and not only in a physical way.

Kurt sat down on the couch. He wished he could reach through the screen and be able to touch Blaine. It was an absurd idea - they would meet in less than an hour. Kurt would have preferred an intimate dinner, but Blaine had insisted on a date at the Lounge. He believed that people should get used to seeing them together, and going to a famous restaurant would help them break into the hearts of his fans. Kurt had gotten some unkind letters from Blaine's most avid supporters, but he never felt that the audience was hostile, on the contrary, he often thought their relationship was in the spotlight too frequently, and that it was being spectacularized like the plot of a soap opera.

"So, Blaine, your wedding is only a week away" the host raised an eyebrow, and Blaine giggled like a schoolgirl. He ran a hand through his dark curls, winking to the public.

Applause, and more applause. 

"I'm sure Kurt is looking forward to becoming Mr. Anderson," the host laughed a little. “I have to admit that your marriage proposal on live TV moved me. And you know, I don't get moved easily."

Kurt felt his heart thump. He remembered all those eyes staring at him, Blaine on his knees with an open velvet box in his hands, that ring ready to be worn. He had turned to the right, then to the left, bewildered. A dead silence had fallen into the study - ladies with hands over their hearts, little girls who seemed to barely contain themselves from moaning with excitement. Kurt's legs had turned to lead. He wasn't ready, not yet. He didn't want to say "no", but he didn't feel like saying "yes" either. He didn't know what to do, how to escape from that situation, and all those emotions had left him speechless and panicked. At any moment, he had expected to hear a "candid camera!" accompanied by a general laugh, but no one breathed. Kurt looked at the ring, at Blaine, and then at the ring again. He had tried to smile through clenched teeth, and nodding he had whispered a "yes" that he had hoped would not be heard by anyone. Unfortunately for him, everyone present had stood up, and the applause had taken the place of silence, becoming deafening. Blaine had kissed him passionately and had helped him put on the ring. The next day, the news had appeared in all the newspapers.

"What can I tell you, Jim," Blaine began, addressing the audience. “Kurt is my soulmate. If I could propose to him like that every day of my life, I would."

Kurt shivered, blaming the cold, when he heard someone in the studio yell "Klaine!", to which Blaine responded with a thumbs up and a laugh that lasted a few seconds too long.

Kurt feels this - being the "K" of "Klaine". It was none other than Blaine's appendix, and his existence began and ended with him.

He went into the kitchen and filled a glass of tap water. He drank it all in one gulp as Blaine's voice filled the apartment with words that Kurt was no longer interested in hearing.

The proposal had been romantic, everyone said that - his father, Carole, his old college friends. He wasn't sure if anyone considered Blaine as lucky to have  _ him _ , because to the world, Kurt was just Blaine's cute boyfriend. He wouldn't have given much importance to that general perception, if Blaine himself didn't treat him the same way over and over again. Kurt just wanted to be asked for an opinion, to be allowed to express his doubts, to speak openly about his feelings. Sometimes he'd rather spend a romantic evening at home than posing for some paparazzo photoshoot and be in the center of attention, but for Blaine, the priority was always ...  _ Blaine. _

If he really wanted to make Kurt happy as he kept saying in every interview, Blaine would have discarded the public marriage proposal to opt for a private moment between just the two of them.

Kurt stood still, resting his hands on the sink. He didn't want to go out tonight, but as usual, he wouldn't say anything to make Blaine sad. Kurt cared that Blaine was happy, even if his own happiness waned.

He felt like crying, but Blaine would complain if he didn't look his best for the evening.

Kurt's life seemed incredibly unfair to him, and he was often overcome with guilt because he believed he had no right to feel that way.

"Kurt!"

Kurt whirled around as he heard that unknown voice say his name. Was that ... a man? In his apartment? He made a shrill yell, like the cry of a dying bird.

The man was heavily built, with short brown hair. He was smiling like a kid at the fair being handed two cones of cotton candy, and Kurt couldn't stop thinking there was a stranger there. Inside his apartment.

He had locked the door, he was sure of it. Or maybe not? Fright prevented him from thinking.

He grabbed the first thing that came into his hands, which sadly turned out to be a fork. When he pointed it at the stranger, he realized that the scene was an embarrassing horror-comedy.

"Don't. Come. Closer." He brandished his fork like a revolver, but the stranger did not lose his smile. He didn't seem to be mocking him, and his posture didn't look threatening at all. He looked almost ... innocent. Kurt felt insane for thinking like that about a psychopath who probably wanted to rob him ... or worse.

"Kurt," he said. “It's me, don't you remember? Dave."

Kurt tried to remember if he knew anyone by that name, but the only Dave that came to his memory was a neighbor back in Lima, who would now be over eighty.

He was ready to plant that damned fork in the lower parts of the maniac without any mercy.

“I tell you again - don't take another step. I want you to get out of my house. Now. I don't want to hurt you, but I won't hesitate to do it if you try to get closer."

He wanted to call the police, but his cellphone was snug between the sofa's pillows. Maybe he could distract the stranger by throwing the fork at him... but Kurt didn't want to risk having Dave on him. In a fight, he would have no chance of winning.

“You really don't remember, Kurt? We played together when we were little, we slept in the same bed. We hid Mr. Snuggles and pretended he was in danger. We dressed as pirates to save him."

_ Disturbing. _ The stranger -  _ Dave _ \- knew the name of one of the teddy bears Kurt had as a child. He was a professional stalker, and it was super creepy.

"How- how the hell do you know?"

Dave looked down, like he was ... disappointed? No, Kurt wouldn't feel guilty for hurting a pervert's feelings.

"You know what? I don't care. I want you out. You heard me? OUT." He raised his voice to an octave to let Dave know that he meant it.

“Kurt… I'm Dave.  _ Dave. _ I was with you the night your mom died. She sang that  _ Dumbo  _ song to you. Do you remember?"

Kurt dropped his fork, which bounced on the floor with a clang. It was not possible. He hadn't told anyone about that, not even Blaine or his father. It was his secret - that night, that song.

" _ Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes _ ,” Dave intoned, softly. "I was sitting at the foot of the bed. You can't have forgotten that."

No, Kurt hadn't forgotten that. The details of that night were still indelibly etched in his memory, as if they were the contours of a photograph never faded by time.

He shook his head, his eyes wide and his mouth open.

He knew Dave's eyes, that shy smile. He knew his name, from a long, long time.

_ "I will remember you forever." _

"It's not possible..."

Yet Dave was right in front of him, like all those years ago.

* * *

“No, you don't understand. It's not possible." Kurt poured a glass of red wine, refraining from gulping down the entire bottle. He closed his eyes, but when he opened them again he saw that Dave was still sitting on the couch, eating a piece of cold pizza he found in the fridge. He wore a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of gray pants that were just a little too baggy.

Kurt was seized by a desire to give fashion advice to his imaginary friend, and for that he wanted to bang his head against the wall. He tried to find a possible logical solution to that apparition, but it would have been like giving way to the delusions of a drunkard.

"Kurt," Dave says, his lips smeared with tomato. "Why don't you calm down?"

"Calm down ?!" he barked, putting his hands out in front of him even though Dave was respecting his personal space by staying at a safe physical distance. “You don't exist! It's impossible! God, I'm going crazy. Or it's all a dream. It must be that - I'm dreaming." Kurt tried to catch his breath. He sat on the opposite side of the couch and looked at Dave like he was a ghost.

"I don't know how it's possible either," Dave licked his fingers, making a sound all too real to be just a hallucination. “The last thing I remember is saying goodbye to you. Even then, there was a Christmas tree - we had decorated it together. And then I found myself here. I think it was your bedroom. I grew up so much, I couldn't believe it. I looked around and saw some of your photos hanging on the wall. I knew right away that it was you, even though we are both so different. I promised you I would remember you forever."

Kurt felt a sudden nostalgia at the mention of the small Christmas tree he had at his home in Lima, with all different decorations and short, lopsided branches. He now had a six feet tall one, with decorations he had bought from Authentiques - gilded ribbons, clear glass balls embellished with silver veins, angels and small ceramic lanterns. The desire to create something aesthetically beautiful had replaced joy, emotions, the warmth he had always associated with Christmas.

The appearance was all that mattered, but that appearance couldn't touch his heart.

Dave reached out to Kurt, but dropped his arm before he could make contact with him, when he saw Kurt jumped a little as he moved. "Why do you look so sad, Kurt?"

Kurt opened his mouth to answer, when they both heard the lock on the front door opening. He stood up, as if he had been hit by an electric shock.

Blaine. He had forgotten about Blaine.

"Hey, Kurt." His fiance appeared in the living room wearing a long red coat, the shoulders of which were wet with fresh snow. “It's really cold outside.” He warmed his hands with his breath. "You're not ready yet? We'll be late, I booked the table for seven o'clock."

Kurt hid the empty glass he had used for the wine behind his back. "I was going to get ready, but ..." He didn't know what to say and thought of different ways in which he could finish that sentence. T _ his is Dave, he was my imaginary friend as a kid. I need a brain scan. I think the apartment is haunted and we should call an exorcist. _

"I didn't know you had a guest." Blaine offered his hand to Dave, looking a little hesitant. "I'm Blaine, Kurt's  _ fiance _ ." Blaine's tone sounded like the human equivalent of peeing against a tree to mark territory.

Dave returned that squeeze vigorously with a toothy grin, oblivious to Blaine's attitude. "I'm Dave. It's so nice to meet you!"

Kurt would have liked to comment on Blaine's openly hostile attitude towards all his male friends, but instead made a sound of surprise. "You can see him? Really?"

Blaine looked at him like he had gone mad, and that's exactly how Kurt felt.  _ Crazy. _ "He's kind of hard to miss, Kurt."

Blaine suffered from the same hallucinations as him, there was no other explanation. Or Kurt had gone too far on sleeping pills the night before without realizing it. Dave didn't exist. It was only the representation created by his childhood's loneliness.

But Blaine could see him too, and Dave ate a pizza.

The pizza, yes. Dave had never eaten when they were kids. How could he? Illusions don't eat.

Somehow, Kurt was facing a human being.

It was impossible for a million reasons, but it was happening. It could have been a joke, if Dave hadn't described something Kurt had never told anyone. And those eyes ... they were too similar to the child's ones that Kurt remembered but no one else could see.

It couldn't be just a coincidence.

“Dave is… an old friend of mine. We knew each other as children." Kurt looked at Dave, and again he had that feeling of warmth and innocence, as if Dave had only grown in looks, but underneath that man there was still the little boy he knew. "He was in town, and he thought he'd come to visit."

He hadn't really lied - Dave  _ was  _ his childhood friend. His best and only friend for a long, long time.

"Oh," Blaine said, trying to mask his annoyance. “I don't think I've ever heard of you, Dave. Kurt and I have a date at the Lounge, I'm sure you've heard of it. Kurt is kind of high maintenance, you know?" Blaine laughed a little, covering his mouth. "Why don't you ... join us?"

Kurt was fuming with anger. High maintenance? _ Really _ ? All he ever asked Blaine was love and support. Expensive gifts, dinners in high-class restaurants - those things made Blaine happy, not Kurt. It was no secret that Kurt loved fashion, but if he wanted to buy something, he'd rather save some of his money rather than see Blaine flaunt his credit card.

He couldn't tell if Blaine was trying to throw shade at him, irritated by Dave's presence in his apartment, or if he really believed those words and didn't know him at all.

The first hypothesis would have branded Blaine as immature, the second was simply demeaning.

“Yes, Dave. You should definitely come." Kurt challenged Blaine with his eyes. If Blaine wanted to make him feel guilty, Kurt would avoid giving him the satisfaction of being sad. He had done nothing wrong.

Dave looked excited, too naive to really grasp the situation between the two. “I'd love to, thank you! Do you think they have mac and cheese?"

Oh, it was going to be a  _ long _ evening.

**

The Lounge was the kind of restaurant Blaine couldn't do without - it fully represented the sophisticated New York high society he so much wanted to be a part of. It overlooked Madison Square Garden and was known for its fine raw seafood dishes.

Dave wasn't dressed like the restaurant's wealthy patrons, but Kurt was sure Blaine didn't mind at all, and that he considered it an advantage in an imaginary dispute that has been going on in his head since he first saw Dave in Kurt's apartment.

Once again, Kurt felt uncomfortable.

Dave didn't seem to notice anything, and he looked around with wide eyes, certainly not used to the glitz that surrounds him. He almost bumped into a waiter, too busy turning left and right to notice this or that detail.

They sat down at Blaine's favorite table, next to a large horizontal white wooden piano.

Kurt handed one of the menus to Dave, and Blaine looked at them with visible annoyance. “I understand you're not used to such places, Dave, but really, order whatever you want. Kurt's friends are also my friends." He gave Kurt's hand a short squeeze, and for the umpteenth time in just a few weeks, Kurt found himself thinking that marriage wasn't going to work, not even a million years.

* * *

Kurt turned his fork into a plate of risotto with shrimp and mint leaves, feeling down and thoughtful. Fortunately, the portions were small, and he would be able to finish it all, if he really tried.

Blaine had been talking about nothing but himself all evening – his role in the TV show, his friends, the glitzy parties he was invited to, even his hairdresser. It looked like he wanted to prove to Dave that he was better than him, that he was unattainable – beautiful, talented, elegant, and rich. All adjectives Blaine thought wouldn't be used to describe Dave.

Kurt was feeling insulted and like a third wheel. Blaine didn't really include him in his conversations, other than a sporadic "Am I right, honey?” thrown in here and there.

Blaine hadn't even remembered Kurt's aversion to shrimp when he ordered a dish for him.

"So, Dave," Blaine began, sipping a glass of champagne. “I have to admit I've never heard of you. How did you meet Kurt?"

Kurt felt compelled to step in to prevent Dave from saying anything weird. “In kindergarten, that's where we met. Dave moved out when I was ten.” He tried to wink at Dave without attracting attention, internally begging Dave not to say anything compromising or that would question their mental health.

Dave nodded. “Yes, as Kurt says. It was a ... very painful move."

"Oh," Blaine said, interested. He put the glass on the table and looked at them with curiosity. "So you were close friends?"

Dave grinned as if he had won the lottery. "Yes, absolutely. We always slept together. We actually spent every hour of the day and night with each other. Kurt is the best person in the world. The funniest, the most interesting. He could make a game out of nothing, he could do a lot of different voices. Do you know he could cook when he was only eight?"

Kurt blushed. Nobody talked about him like that, except perhaps his father and rarely Carole. The compliments were something meant only for Blaine, not him.

"Well, we don't often eat at home."

Kurt kept his gaze down, clutching his napkin. Part of him expected Dave to say something about how lucky Kurt was to marry Blaine, but the opposite caught him off guard.

“You know Blaine, you are really lucky. You're about to marry Kurt! What do you love about him?"

It was the question Kurt really wanted to know the answer to, but at the same time it was also the one that scared him the most.

There was often seeing no love or tenderness for him in Blaine's eyes. Kurt had pretended it was just a misrepresentation of reality dictated by his fears, but what if it was true? What if he was really going to marry a man who didn't love him?

Internally, he prayed that Blaine would clear all his doubts. He would have called himself a fool forever, but their story would have a happy ending. Kurt's life would have a happy ending. Kurt would accept that Blaine would rather eat in a restaurant than taste Kurt's cooking, or that he preferred to talk about himself than listen to him.

Kurt would accept everything, if only Blaine loved him.

Visibly uncomfortable, Blaine took another sip of his drink. “Oh… Kurt… he remembers all my appointments. I don't have a good memory, but he always knows where I should be, you know? And he's my biggest fan.”

Kurt felt himself sinking. He tried to smile, but his heart was broken.

“I thought you already had a lot of fans, Blaine. And your appointments - maybe you just need an agenda?"

Kurt saw a spark of anger and annoyance flicker across Blaine's face, which he quickly masked with a casual chuckle. “I guess you've never really been in love, Dave. I am wrong?"

"Maybe I've never been in love," Dave replied with a serene calm. “But if I were lucky enough to marry Kurt, I'd say I love his courage, his uniqueness. Kurt is beautiful, and anyone can see it, but a lot of people are beautiful. Kurt is so much  _ more. _ Kurt's beauty shines with its own light, it comes from within, and even in a crowd of people it would be impossible not to notice him. Kurt is independent, talented, creative. He knows what you need without you asking, he takes care of everyone... even if he sometimes forgets to do the same with himself. He is strong, proud, but also sweet and sensitive. If I were lucky enough to marry Kurt, I'd tell him how much I admire him, how much being with him makes me a better person."

_ Sincerity. _ In Dave's eyes, Kurt sees pure and simple sincerity, and it was shocking.

Was he still the person Dave remembered?

_ Sing, live, love _ . It was Kurt's promise to his mom before she died.

Kurt felt that he had broken that promise, and that he had become a shadow of himself. He was content with a one-way love, which transformed him day after day into a robot that lived according to the happiness of others. Blaine never loved him - Blaine loved that Kurt loved him.

And Kurt had become too weak to change that.

He excused himself from the table and shut himself up in the restroom, crying.

* * *

Sitting on the couch, Dave plunged his fork into a rich plate of mac and cheese and licked his lips after the first bite. “Mmm. I knew yours would be really good. Don't get me wrong, the restaurant was fantastic, but I’d need to eat ten courses to feel full... and I would choose your cooking anyway. "

Kurt chuckled, eyes wide. He stared at the wall, the Christmas tree, the framed photos of his last vacation with Blaine. "Dave, it's just mac and cheese."

Dave shrugged, eating quickly. "It’s perfect."

Kurt just felt ... empty. An empty life, an empty house, an empty future. Even if he ran away, he had the impression that he would soon fall into the same trap of emptiness.

He knew how to love, but he did not know how to receive love. Even if he wanted it, so ardently.

"You shouldn't have asked Blaine that question."

Dave put his plate on the coffee table and looked at Kurt's profile. The perfect curve of his nose, his long lashes, that air of beauty and melancholy that surrounded him.

"Why not?"

Kurt turned to him, his eyes misting with tears. "You shouldn't have asked that question because I didn't want to know Blaine's answer."

Dave moved closer to Kurt, their hands touching for the first time after so many years.

"When you left, it was devastating." Kurt laced his fingers with Dave's, trying to hold back the sobs. “I felt like I had lost a part of me. I cried for days, I was inconsolable."

Kurt's voice was broken by sobs, and Dave kissed his cheek like when they were kids. Kurt wouldn't accept such physical contact from someone other than Blaine, but he knew for sure that Dave had no ulterior motives.

“I never wanted to leave, Kurt. I would have given everything to stay with you. It wasn't my decision."

Kurt had so many questions to ask, but right now he didn't feel like voicing any. He didn't care why Dave came back, or why now others could see him too. He didn't care why he had been forced to leave so many years ago.

He just wanted to feel his presence. He wanted him to stay.

"I know," he barely said. “I just wish everyone knew you existed during that time too. I would have liked to grow up with you, and maybe..."

Kurt blushed and left Dave's hand. Continuing that sentence wouldn't have been fair to Blaine.

"Kurt ... why are you so sad?"

The same question Dave had asked him before Blaine interrupted them. That simple, concise question.

_ Why? _

"Because I think I've lost myself." Kurt cried. “I don't know when it happened, or how. The person you used to know no longer exists, Dave, I don't recognize myself anymore. I began to live according to others, to Blaine. I don't remember who Kurt is. I don't know who I am. I wanted to sing ... and don't get me wrong, I love my job. But I really wish I could sing. I gave up."

Dave gently moved Kurt's hand across his chest, and covered it with his own. "Then sing, Kurt."

_ Sing, live, love. _

Kurt shook his head. "It's not that easy."

"Yes, it is," Dave replied, confidently. "I see you."

Kurt wiped his tear-streaked cheeks and realized how warm Dave's hand was, saw the beautiful green hues of his hazel eyes, his thin lips. "What do you see?"

“I see  _ Kurt.  _ I see you."

Kurt had never thought he loved the sound of his name, not until that very moment.

* * *

Kurt hid his head under the pillow. He tried to sleep, but his mind was a whirlwind of confused thoughts. He wanted someone to show him the way to go, but even following someone's advice to the letter would be wrong.

Kurt had to take his own life in his hands. He wanted to see Kurt too, like Dave did.

He picked up his cellphone and searched for Blaine's name. He sighed, before clicking the call button.

He needed a push, a sign.

"Kurt?" Blaine's voice was sleepy, and Kurt heard a yawn. "Do you know what time it is?"

It would have been different if Blaine had agreed to live with him - Kurt could have just found comfort in him in the middle of the night ... not feel alone. Blaine preferred to wait until after the wedding though, to not bother Kurt with his impossible schedules. But Kurt needed love, and just seeing Blaine sleeping next to him would be comforting.

Blaine didn't understand, he preferred not to listen.

"I want to quit my job."

Blaine made a sound of surprise. "What do you mean? Why?"

Kurt was holding out a hand, giving Blaine a chance to listen to him. Perhaps it was his own fault because he had gladly accepted the role of doing everything Blaine wanted without giving a voice to his disappointment.

Maybe Blaine wanted to listen to him, but Kurt had underestimated him. “I want to sing, Blaine. As a child, I always wanted to perform. It was my dream, and I really want to give it a try."

Kurt hoped, prayed, that that confession would change things.

“Did you call me for this? Do you know what I wanted to do as a kid, Kurt? To be a  _ doctor. _ An astronaut, for a while. At some point, you have to grow up and accept your limits. I think Dave's proximity isn't doing you much good. Go back to sleep, okay? I love you."

Kurt stood still, the phone clutched in his hand as Blaine closed the call.

* * *

Kurt's entrance into the hall was greeted by flashes. A multitude of bright flashes that made him feel attacked like a gazelle being hunted by a wild animal. The high ceiling was covered in fake icicles, and Kurt thought they were a perfect representation of his mood.

Kurt walked down the aisle of white candles and lights and saw Blaine waiting for him at the altar. The hair held in place by a massive dose of gel, the white jacket and a cerulean bowtie.

The final destination of his long journey.

In the front row, Kurt noticed his father in the most elegant black suit he had ever worn, Carole, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, and Finn, his half-brother, with his wife next to him and his two-year-old daughter sitting on his knee.

Everyone else was unknown, many of them were people Kurt had never seen.

Kurt was seized by a desire to ask his family to help him.

_ You are making a mistake. Run away. You still have time. _

* * *

_ "You know it's not the right choice, Kurt. You know it, even if you pretend you don't!" _

_ Once again, in Dave's eyes, Kurt could only see sincerity. An unconditional love that he could not decipher, or accept. _

_ Love like that would ask for something in return - money, sex, fame. _

_ But Dave seemed to want nothing from him. _

“ _ You know he doesn't love you! He never loved you! I l... " _

_ Kurt shook his head. He couldn't look Dave in the eye. For a short time, he had had the illusion that he deserved more, that the promise made to his mother still had a value. He believed Dave, who thought of him as the kid full of hopes and dreams he once was. How stupid. _

_ Who did he think he was? It was just Kurt ... and Blaine was more than he deserved. He wasn't special, he was just a kid from Lima, like many others. _

_ He took Dave's hand and squeezed it for a moment. "Thank you, but I've made my decision." _

_ He turned, and believed that was the end. He wouldn't see Dave anymore because Blaine didn't like it. _

_ Part of him died in those few seconds. _

“ _ I'll be waiting for you at Rockefeller Center, in front of the Christmas tree. Tonight." _

_ A glimmer of hope, a little light at the end of the tunnel. _

_ For the first time, Kurt felt like kissing Dave. _

“ _ Dave… I'm getting married. Tonight Blaine and I are leaving for our honeymoon." _

_ Dave hugged him. He smelled of childhood - like Christmas in Lima, like his mom's perfume bottle. _

_ Oh, how Kurt would have liked to get lost in that smell forever. _

_ "It doesn’t matter. You don't have to come. I just want you to know that I will be waiting for you." _

* * *

"We are gathered here to celebrate the marriage of Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel."

Kurt's heart was made of ice, hard as stone and impenetrable. He thought back to hope, to a life without limits. He remembered love, tender, passionate love, made of words and caresses, of support, of kisses, of smiles.

The simplicity of love, which would have melted the ice that encased his heart.

Kurt didn't want a material love, a front page cover. Kurt wanted to snuggle up on the couch, and feel at home. He wanted to look in the mirror and see Kurt without having to close his eyes and wallow in regrets and guilt.

"I want things to change between us,” he said.

The flashes stopped, and Blaine looked at Kurt like he was crazy. He turned to the guests, smiling through gritted teeth. “Kurt… what are you saying? Can't we talk about it later? "

Kurt wanted to scream. He thought of Dave, sitting in front of that little Christmas tree that Kurt had set up by himself because his dad was too sad, the kiss on the corner of the lips Dave gave him before disappearing into thin air.

The way Dave hugged him under a table on the day of his mom's funeral, and how safe he had felt then.

He needed courage to be the strong person he had always been. “No, we need to talk about it now. I need to know if you love me, Blaine. I want to be heard by you, I want your support. I need a shoulder to cry on, and someone who likes to sleep next to me. I want you to miss me when we are apart, like I miss you, and I don't want to live our life in the spotlight. I want you and me. Just you and me. "

For the first time in years, Kurt felt like he was free. It was an intoxicating sensation.

_ Tell me yes, Blaine. Take this step. _

"Is this because of Dave?" Blaine whispered, and Kurt knew at that moment that it was over. Whatever feelings they had felt for each other once, nothing was left but the memory. “Did you sleep with him? I forgive you, okay? I also made some mistakes, so we are even."

Kurt smiled instead of feeling broken, He was finally free of the weight that was devouring him. He was chasing something he couldn't have. A fairy tale king of love, made of paper castles.

He had allowed his heart to go cold, he had let Kurt disappear. Inside, he asked for forgiveness from his mother, his father. From Dave.

Kurt was living in a cage. With his dreams, his flaws, his opinions. He was becoming an empty shell.

But not anymore. Never again.

Dave had released him, and Kurt loved him with that tender love he had almost ceased believing in.

"It's over, Blaine." He took off his engagement ring, kissed his now ex-fiance's cheek, and decided to never look back.

* * *

After yet another call from Blaine, Kurt threw the phone in the snow. Adrenaline kept him from getting cold, despite wearing only a lightweight white tuxedo.

He saw beauty wherever he turned. The Christmas markets, the children skating on the ice, the smell of ginger and cinnamon.

Someone sang the notes of "So this is Christmas".

_ A very merry Christmas _

_ And a happy New Year _

_ Let's hope it's a good one _

_ Without any fears _

The world was dyed white, like a piece of paper no one had ever written on. Kurt could start from that moment, from that day.

Write his own life.

As promised, Dave was waiting for him, standing in front of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.

The fir was immense, as if it touched the tip of the sky.

Dave's face was brightened by the swirl of light and pure beauty, and Kurt ran into his arms, grabbing his face with his bare hands and bringing their lips together for the first time.

They were cold and tasted like chocolate.

It was the best feeling he had ever experienced.

"I love you," Kurt said, kissing him again and again. "You were right about everything. I love you so much. I've always loved you."

He imagined waking up in Dave's arms, and that thought warmed his heart.

“I love you too, Kurt. Every hour I've been in this world, I've loved you. And you must be cold."

Dave took off his jacket and placed it on Kurt's shoulders.

_ Why did it all sound so much like goodbye? _

_ Sing, live, love. _

Kurt asked his mom for help, asked her to give him some more courage. He slipped his arms into Dave’s jacket.

“I'm not going to let you go, not this time. I love you, I want to spend my life with you. I know you love me too. “ He caressed Dave's cold cheek. “You see me, remember? I see you too, I saw you even when no one else could. Let me love you, Dave. Please, let me love you."

Another kiss. More desperate, passionate, messy. Kurt felt Dave's warm tongue against his. He clung to Dave's clothes, as if to hold him close. "Don't leave me."

Their foreheads brushed, and Kurt felt the salty taste of his own tears.

"Kurt."

"No! Not this time, Dave! No!"

Dave sighed, and Kurt covered his ears with his hands. "No."

“Kurt, I came back because you needed me, but that's not the case anymore. You only need yourself. You are still the most beautiful person in the world, let everyone see it."

"I need  _ you _ to see me."

_ Forever. _

"Wherever I am, Kurt, I will always cheer for you."

They kissed and cried until the stroke of midnight, then Dave was again gone.

* * *

Kurt spent the night walking around, wearing Dave's jacket not to freeze. The snow was falling hard, and he could no longer feel his feet. The streets became deserted, and the lights in the houses went out. Kurt felt lonely, in a city now dead.

_ "Wherever I am, Kurt, I will always cheer for you." _

He only had that night to cry, then he would rebuild his strength, and start living again. For Dave, for his mom, for himself.

Dave was gone, but now Kurt knew he deserved to be loved.

It was an awareness he would never lose again.

He wiped the snow off his shoes on the doormat and inserted the key in the lock on his apartment's door. The first delicate light of dawn could be seen outside, tinging the sky with soft pastel colors.

When Kurt saw the light on, he panicked.  _ Blaine. _

Blaine, asking him to be forgiven, making promises that he would break one by one. Blaine, who had never loved him, and for whom Kurt no longer felt anything.

Kurt knew he would try to reclaim his self-effacing version of himself again, to be able to smile on the cover of magazines.

No! Kurt would never retrace his steps. Dave taught him to love himself, Dave...

Kurt saw Dave's back, bent over the kitchen stove. Dave, whom he would recognize in a second because his beauty was beyond the exterior.

He took a step, then another.

"Dave ..."

_ Sing, live, love. Forever. _

Kurt was sure he heard his mom's voice singing.

_ Baby mine, don't you cry _

_ Baby mine, dry your eyes _

_ Rest your head close to my heart _

_ Never to part, baby of mine _

Dave turned to him, smiling with tears in his eyes. “Kurt! I ... I cooked mac and cheese. It will never be as good as yours, but you can teach me. And that Christmas tree is ... a little sad. I don't know why. It's very beautiful, but it's sad. Maybe we could buy another one together? Your father should still have our old decorations."

Kurt put his index finger to Dave's lips. "We will buy one. Our Christmas tree. Thank you... for coming back to me."

He felt an almost imperceptible kiss on the palm of his hand.

“I came back because you needed me, but I stayed because I need you. I will always need you. I love you, Kurt."

Kurt laughed through tears, and kissed him on the lips. "Forever?"

Dave nodded. "Forever."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Elle_Delajoie for helping me with this run against time. I don't know what I would do without you!


End file.
